Dreams of Dying
by Fireyphoenix
Summary: Ron is on his deathbed. What in the world is Hermione going to do?


uDISCLAMER:/u Well, let's see… this fanfic has not been published; the characters in this story were created by J. K. Rowling; I take no credit in thinking them up. The plot, however, was thought up by ME! ME! ME!  
  
uDEDICATION:/u This fanfiction story is dedicated to my friend, Heather. No, wait… Ariel said I should dedicate it to her because we were PICs... what the heck, I love ya both!!!  
  
uINFORMATION:/u The stuff written in italics is Ron's hallucinations. (If they don't show up, sorry. Someone who reviewed my story last time I put it up was whining because the italics didn't show up, so... yeah. ) This story takes place at the end of Harry's, Ron's, and Hermione's 7th year. Oh, and some people have told me that the ending makes no sense. Well, I'll tell it to you, but it may ruin the rest of the story: Harry, Ron, and Hermione are all dead.  
  
uOTHER:/u Some people think that depressed people write about suicide. I'm not about to do anything; don't worry. Oh, and I know I do *** too much, (does it even show up on this website? I wouldn't know…) but I have to. And I enjoy ducks immensely.  
  
uWARNING:/u I have been told that this fanfic is DEPRESSING. It includes suicide and severe injuries. You still want to read it? Okay. But don't say you haven't been warned. By the way, this is a Ron/Hermione story. I am NOT a shipper. (Actually, I am. When I wrote this I wasn't) I also have written Harry/Hermione stuff. (In fact, this exact same story has been written as H/Hr). So… you're probobly wondering when this gibbersh is going to end and when you can read my oh-so-depressing story. Well, if you want, you can skip the next couple of sentances because I can guarantee that they will be of no use whatsoever to you. You're still reading? I can't imagine why. Well, I'm running out of ways to make my Warning heading look like it has lots of info under it, so I'll just get on with the story. (Ha-Ha… I lied) Anyway…  
  
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The golden Snitch was miles below him. Ron pointed his broomstick down at a near 90-degree angle and shot toward it. He loved the feeling of the wind rushing in his ears. As he neared the ground, he leveled his broom out. The crowd was making even more noise than before, but listening wasn't important. What was important was getting the Snitch before Malfoy. Speaking of Malfoy…  
  
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A figure clad in green Quidditch robes swooped out of nowhere and headed straight for Ron at nearly 60 miles per hour. Ron gave a yell of surprise, and swerved his broom out of the way to avoid a collision. He never had time to avoid the Bludger.  
  
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"Aaarrgghh! Nooo!" screamed Hermione from her spot at the top of the stands. She turned to Harry, who was sitting beside her, looking horrified at what had just occurred down on the Quidditch field.  
  
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"I'm going down there!" she yelled. "Come with me, Harry." Harry didn't move. Hermione didn't have time to waste. If Harry would rather sit there than see what had happened to his best friend, that was his problem.  
  
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Salty tears streaming down her face, Hermione blindly made her way out of the stands to try and find her way down to the Quidditch field. Halfway to her destination, she dimly felt a hand on her shoulder, restraining her. It was Professor McGonagall, looking very pale.  
  
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"Come with me, Miss Granger," said the professor, with a quaver in her voice that Hermione had never heard there before. "And where is Harry? Ah… yes, come with me please, Mr. Potter."  
  
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The Gryffindors skirted out of the way, and created a passage for Professor McGonagall, Harry, and Hermione. Hermione didn't even need to lift her eyes to see that most of her peers were whispering behind their hands as she and Harry passed by. Moments later, the three were not on the Quidditch field, but in the hospital wing. Standing around one bed were many white-faced people: Madam Pomfrey, Ginny Weasley, Professor Dumbledore, and all members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.  
  
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Hermione slowly approached the bed, unsure if she wanted to see what was on it. Then Madam Pomfrey, who was standing in front of Hermione, moved aside. One look at Ron Weasley, and Hermione was tracing the route back to the Gryffindor common room faster than she knew was possible. Once there, she threw herself down in one of the armchairs and sobbed.   
  
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Ron was dead. He had to be. His face had been unrecognizable, features deformed, lying in a pool of dark red blood. Trying to force the image out of her mind was an impossible task. The repulsive image of Ron had been tattooed permanently in Hermione's mind, and it wasn't leaving anytime soon. Making up her mind, Hermione let out a quavering sigh and set off for the kitchens. [A/N: That does not make sense now, but it will]  
  
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"No, he is not dead," Madam Pomfrey was telling an ashen-faced Ginny down in the hospital wing. "However, I am afraid he will be before nightfall. When an individual is in this state, he will simply hallucinate the most emotional moments of his life before…"  
  
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That was all Ginny needed to hear to trace Hermione's steps to the Gryffindor common room.  
  
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i~ The Yule Ball was almost to a close. Ron was glad; Fleur wasn't going to let go of Roger Davis anytime soon, and this put a depressing weight on Ron's mind. The first notes of 'Drowning' began to fill the Great Hall, and Ron looked away as love-soaked couples fell into each other's arms. He was so intent at keeping his gaze off this repulsive scene that it took quite a while for him to realize that someone was standing right in front of him. It was Hermione.  
  
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"Dance?" she asked.  
  
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Ron looked at her, abashed. "Umm… okay," he managed.  
  
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Throughout the first verse of the song, Ron was darting his eyes over the Great Hall nervously, hoping against hope that no one would see him. Soon, Ron found himself gazing adamantly into the swirling brown depths of Hermione's eyes.  
  
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Who cares if Fleur's with Davis, he realized. I've got Hermione! ~/i  
  
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Hermione stopped outside the painting of the fruit bowl. She waited until her eyes were free of tears, then reached up and tickled the pear. It giggled, turned into a door handle, and Hermione pulled it open and stepped over the threshold of the Hogwarts kitchen. She was greeted instantaneously by six or seven elves that ran up to her, bowing.  
  
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"Hello, soul-mate of Ronald Weasley!" cried one. Hermione recognized him instantly as Dobby, and grinned in spite of herself. She could vividly remember Harry explaining to Dobby that this was the name that Hermione was to be addressed by. "Is there anything we can get you?"  
  
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"Actually, yes; but it's not food," said Hermione. "I'm doing a project in Muggle Studies that requires us to make a wood carving out of a tree stump, like the ancient Muggles used to do before the Severing charm was discovered. Do you have anything I could use?"  
  
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Moments later, a steak knife was being presented to Hermione.  
  
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"Thank you," she said, slipping it into her robes. The blade felt cool against her bare arm. She bid the house-elves goodbye, and walked out of the kitchen.  
  
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i~ The first kiss. Ron and Hermione sat on a bench watching the sun set over a shimmering lake. The heavens seemed to open up as rays of red, orange, and yellow danced across the sky, throwing patterns on to the lake, which reflected them back up to the faces of Ron and Hermione. As the colors melted into shades of deep purple and pink, it was at that moment that Ron realized what he needed to do. He gently cupped Hermione's face in his hands, and brought her lips to his for the first time ever as a symphony of colors played across the sky.  
  
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He could vividly remember the sound of the gentle waves lapping at the shore, the taste of her soft lips on his, and the recollection that they were not two souls, but one; locked in an embrace where nothing could ever separate them. Not even death… ~/i  
  
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Hermione made her way slowly back to the Gryffindor common room, taking in her surroundings, as she would probably never see them again. All the while, she was strongly aware of the coolness of the knife blade against her arm.  
  
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Hermione reached the common room, gave the password to the Fat Lady, ("Merlin") and, after checking that it was deserted, traipsed upstairs to her dorm room to write the following letter:  
  
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Dear Mummy, Daddy, and Harry,  
  
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Please don't be mad at me. I had to do it. Don't grieve for me; I will be happier where I am now. I love you.  
  
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Love Always,  
  
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iHermione/i  
  
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Then she picked up the knife.  
  
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Ginny was back by Ron's side and had been there ever since he had been admitted to the hospital wing. She watched the rise and fall of his chest gradually slow until it had stopped altogether. She told no one that her brother was gone. She simply sat.  
  
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The knife was cold in Hermione's palm. Without a moment's hesitation, she brought it to her chest.  
  
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White-hot pain.  
  
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Blackness.  
  
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Nothing.  
  
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Harry heard the thump in the girl's dorm and knew immediately what had happened. He slowly walked up the stairs and wasn't surprised to see Hermione dead. But Harry had already made up his mind. He pointed his wand toward his chest and whispered, "Avada Kedavra."  
  
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i"Hermione, you came!"/i  
  
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i"Of course."/i  
  
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i"I thought you'd never…"/i  
  
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i"I could never leave you, Ron. Never. And now… I never will."/i  
  
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i"Ron! Hermione!"/i  
  
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i"Harry!"/i  
  
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i"Harry!"/i  
  
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i"You came, too!"/i  
  
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i"Yeah. I couldn't stand to go through life without you guys."/i  
  
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i"Thanks, Harry. You're a true friend."/i  
  
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i"You too, Ron."/i 


End file.
